"There's no room for any more," she declared with finality. "You'd best run along home."
And with that she shut the door upon them and followed her unwelcome visitors into her spotless parlour.
"What's the matter with the young lady?" she enquired sourly.
Avery answered her in her quick, friendly way. "She has had a fall, poor little thing, and hurt her foot—I'm afraid, badly. It's so good of you to let us bring her in here. Won't you spread a cloth to keep her boots off your clean chintz?"
The suggestion was what Piers described later as "a lucky hit." It melted old Mrs. Marshall on the instant. She hastened to comply with it, and saw Jeanie laid down upon her sofa with comparative resignation.
"She do look mortal bad, to be sure," she remarked.
"Can't you find some brandy?" said Piers.
"I think she will come to, now," Avery said. "Yes, look! Her eyes are opening."
She was right. Jeanie's eyes opened very wide and fixed themselves enquiringly upon Piers' face. There was something in them, a species of dumb appeal, that went straight to his heart. He moved impulsively, and knelt beside her.
Jeanie's hand came confidingly forth to him. "I did try to be brave," she whispered.